


The Job Offer

by deutschtard



Series: The Dancer and the Doctor [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I can't even, I have no idea what happened, I just got ideas, M/M, Stripper AU, Will is a Stripper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschtard/pseuds/deutschtard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is a stripper at a club in Baltimore. He has a mysterious Doctor who is secretly his favorite customer. The Doctor has an offer he's not sure he should refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Job Offer

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I wrote this, I don't even really ship Hannigraham. I don't. But this uh. Just sort of happened thanks to FREDDIE LOUNDS (I hate you). We got to talking randomly and this came up, then we put WAY TOO MUCH thought into it and my brain would't NOT let me write this.
> 
> I hope you're happy, Freddie, you jerk. <3
> 
> Songs used are "Maneater" by Nelly Furtado and "Teeth" by Lady Gaga.

_Everybody look at me, me_

_I walk in the door, you start screa-min_

_come on everybody what you here, for?_

_move your body around like a nym-pho_

  

    Maneater played as Will Graham gyrated his hips on stage, afraid to look anyone in the eye. There were subtle points he could look at that gave the right impression, though, made the customers feel like they were connecting with him. He knew it was almost ten o'clock, the time that the man who favored him most always came in, as though he had scheduled his time with him.

      Right as his song was in the final verse, in he stepped. In a three-piece suit and double Windsor knot, he would have looked for all the world as though he were a lost dignitary from a foreign land accidentally entering this dark place, if not for the almost predatory gaze he leveled at Will. His cheeks flushed under the hot lights as he hit his crescendo, arching his back and landing on his knees, chest and groin proffered to the audience. He was the man's favorite dancer, he knew as he watched him take the center seat, felt him eyeing him hungrily. 

      The song ended and Will made his way off stage, into the back so he could change into a different outfit. His stage show was themed—as they all were—around law enforcement. But private dances and walking the room were not as much of a show as stage performances, they were allowed a bit more of a relaxed dress code, and he wanted to put the gun holster on. It made Will feel safe, it hugged him like he could never let a person do, and even though there was no gun in the holster, he felt powerful. 

      He wandered the room—as was his job—for a moment before coming up to the man, the doctor. “Evening, Doctor,” he said, doing his best to appear like he wanted to be there, like he was excited to be talking to the man. In truth, he was, the Doctor was one of the only people who had seemed to understand his little idiosyncrasies, but social interaction of any form was difficult for him. Jack Crawford only kept him at the club because he was one of the most popular draws, and the Doctor always paid handsomely to assure he was the only one to get private dances.

      “Will,” he said, accent thick, with a smile that never quite reached his eyes, “you were very good tonight.”

      Will met his eyes for the smallest of seconds, “Thank you. Would you like me to dance for you tonight?”

      The smile met the Doctor's eyes for just a moment, truly making his eyes sparkle, and nodded, “I'd like that very much, Will.”

      The Doctor had reserved a private room for the duration of his attendance. If he was there, whoever was in the room was to be removed and the room cleaned. It housed an elegant couch, clothed in satin with velvet pillows, the low lights highlighting only Will as he began dancing.

 

_Tell me something that'll save me_

_I need a man who makes me alright_

_(Man who makes me alright)(Just tell me that it's alright)_

_Tell me something that'll change me_

_I'm gonna love you with my hands tied_

      Now, the rule was no touching, especially in private dances, but Will had an arrangement with the mysterious Doctor from a foreign land. Minimal touches to his waist, torso, and thighs were acceptable. As he straddled the Doctor's hips, he felt those hands, not rough and calloused as the men who used to pay for his dances, but soft, refined, they were something that the Doctor took great care of. He appreciated the touches, the way he rest his hands on Will's thighs as he wrapped his arms around the Doctor's neck, arching his back and getting as close as he dared.

      “Will,” the voice startled him. It had been almost a year since the Doctor had first started attending, and during their private dances, he almost never spoke. When he did, his words were always important.

      “Y-Yes, Doctor?” he said, hips still rocking against him, and he was always comforted by the fact that he did not feel any arousal pressing against him the way many had in the past.

      The Doctor looked up at him, eyes almost looking  _through_  him as it looked like he was contemplating something, “Why do you choose such a profession when you have such trouble interacting with other people?”

      He shrugged mid-dance, “Got to get through college. The dancing is the easy part....” he chuckled a little, “they all like the shy guy.”

      That made the Doctor chuckle, hands taking a bit firmer grasp on Will's thighs as he looked up at him. The man above him was graceful, elegant, and most certainly didn't belong at a club that labeled itself the “Federal Booty Investigation.” He saw much more in him, more potential than he would ever be able to realize in a place like this. They had had conversations over dancing before, though they were few and far between, as he preferred to simply watch Will lose himself in his lap. Something he had always wondered was what this man would look like in a full three-piece suit, or more clothing than he was allowed to wear in this establishment. He regained his composure, hesitating a moment before asking, “Would you ever consider being a full-time private dancer?”

      Will stopped his dance and looked down at him, still straddling him in a bit of shock, “I...I don't—that is, I don't, um,”

      The Doctor smiled, closing his eyes and looking down a moment, “It was only a suggestion, Will. I've got enough money to pay for whatever bills you should need covered during your degree,” his eyes refocused, hawk like, predatory and strong.

      His breathing had begun getting rapid, eyes darting for anywhere to look, not even the usual places, like the center of his forehead, were safe right now. Will backed off of him and hugged one of his arms a bit, “I uh, I don't know if Crawford would like you taking one of his best dancers...” 

      The Doctor's head cocked, his lips curling into a smirk, “I think that with the money I would be offering, he could find five dancers to replace you.”

      Will's head shook, “Doctor I don't know, I-I don't want to....”

     “It's quite all right, as I said, only a suggestion. The offer will remain open, should you change your mind.” Their song had stopped, and the Doctor knew their time was up, “I won't keep you from your other duties, Will. Think about what I said,” he stood and though they were near the same height, Will felt him towering over him, his mere presence engulfing him like a tidal wave, but a warm one, it felt protective, it felt safe.

      He nodded, and the Doctor gently took his chin in his hand, cocking his head to the side as he smiled, “Enjoy your evening, Will. Until Tuesday.”

      Will stood in their private room for a full three minutes before he was able to regain enough of himself to finish his shift.

      When the club closed, he sat at the bar and sighed, “Whisky. Please give me some whisky.”

      Alana, the bartender, turned around from the sink and gave him a bit of a smile, “With or without an E?”

      “Without.” The glass was warm in his hand, straight out of the water in the sink, “Thanks.”

      She leaned on the bar and pretended to clean a bit of it. They were closed on Mondays, and tonight was Sunday, she could afford to stay a bit late to catch up with her friend, “Rough night? Did someone harass you? I swear, Will, you've got to go tell Margot when--”

      “No,” he said, looking at the liquid before downing it, giving the glass to Alana who silently refilled it, listening, “No one harassed me. I uh, I think I got a job offer?”

      Alana quirked her head, “From your doctor?”

      “He's not  _my_  doctor,” he said, a bit snappier than he intended, “Sorry,” what exactly the man  _was_  to him, other than a repeat customer, was still obscured in darkness, “I don't, he asked me if I'd ever considered being a private dancer. I think he wanted to, well,  _buy_  me for lack of a better term.”

      He frowned when Alana burst out laughing, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but Will, you can't be serious. He's...you can't say yes to that. You're not a  _slave_ ,”

      “I know, I uh—I don't think I would be. I think he just sort of...wants me to dance for him at home. He said he'd offer Crawford a lot of money for me and pay me better than I get here....”

     “Will, come on,” she said, “what do you actually know about this guy? If you say yes, he could let you into his home and then rape you or kill you—or worse.”

      Will snorted, “What's worse than killing me?”

      “I can think of a lot of things,” she said, somberly, “but that's not the point. The point is you don't  _know_  him. You can't honestly be considering it,” she eyed him, warily filling up his glass a third time, “This is your last one, you know, I don't want you to leave your car here anymore, not after it got broken into again.”

      Nodding, he sipped the last two fingers of whisky slowly, “Third time this year, don't know what they want in such an old car,” but he didn't tarry on that line of thought for long, it was more about the fact that they  _could_  break in than what they actually took—the last two times, they hadn't taken anything. “I don't know, Alana. I...” he hesitated, “it would be nice to not have to deal with all the people here all the time, you know I'm not exactly the poster child for extroversion.”

      “Well, no, but this isn't safe.”

      “I know,” he sighed, “I...maybe I should meet him outside of the club—in a public place,” he quickly added, “maybe try to uh, y'know, talk to him about himself, see what exactly he wants out of me.”

      She shook her head, leaning her elbow on the bar, “You want me to go with you, private-like, I'll hide in the corner of the coffee shop and make sure he isn't going to take you to his house and dismember you or something.”

      “Maybe. I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I'll figure something out, though,” he said, smiling as he finished the last bit of his drink, “You're always the best listener.”

      “That's what I'm here for. Hell, maybe I should go back to school, get a degree in psychiatry, I do enough of it behind a bar, after all,” she took the glass from him, and Will, now in his jeans and plaid button-up shirt, shuffled back to the room to sit and sober up a bit in silence before going to the parking lot.

      Across the street, he spotted a black car, it looked expensive but he couldn't see the model from where he stood. It was too dark to see anyone inside, but it felt like someone was watching him. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't about to go and check it out. People who went and checked out mysterious cars in the dark ended up on the morning news as a body found dumped in the lake. Will went to his car, got in and turned it on, still watching the car as he pulled out and drove in the opposite direction from the car. Every few minutes, he checked behind him to make sure that car hadn't followed him. He lived in the middle of nowhere, if someone followed him to kill him or something, there would be no one to hear him screaming for help.

      The thoughts of terrifying possibilities would not leave his mind as he drove home, breaking out in a cold sweat that had soaked through his undershirt by the time he pulled into his driveway. Still on edge, he looked all around him for five minutes until he was sure no one had followed him. Will got out of the car and raced into the house, where his dogs were waiting impatiently. They hated living on the schedule he followed, he was never at home enough, and they missed their alpha.

      He let them all out to do their business, staying on the safety of his porch in the light as they ran and barked at each other, marking their territory yet again. Will smiled, though it faded as he thought of the Doctor's words again. 

      Would it really be so bad? Could he want something more out of him? In his time at the job, Will had had his fair share of creepy men offer him things, bring him gifts, wait for him outside after the club closed. But this man was different, this Doctor did none of those, he was not the type to make untoward advances, he was respectful. There was something about him that inherently trusted, although he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Despite the uncomfortable thread of paranoia that stitched his entire world together, he felt like perhaps taking this Doctor up on his offer wouldn't be too horrible of an idea.

      The dogs in and fed for the night, Will curled up in his bed, knees close to his chest as he heard the Doctor's voice permeate even his dreams, “Think about what I said,” he repeated, sighing.

      “Until Tuesday, Doctor,” he whispered to himself, wrapping an arm around the dog who inevitably ended up in his bed as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
